Ways To Say I Love You
by AlittleGandA
Summary: It must be exhausting, always having to find ways to say 'I love you' without actually saying the words. Shane/Oliver and Rita/Norman, set right after the season 1 finale.
1. Shane and Oliver

Spoilers: This starts right after the season finale ends.

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. Let's move on.

**Ways To Say I Love You**

**by A Little G and A**

Shane moved toward him, stopping just outside of arm's reach. The concern in her expression was evident. "Oliver?"

Once again, the appropriate response failed him. Even now, with the letter safely beyond the reach of his cowardice, Oliver still could not find the words necessary to tell Shane what he had written. Still, she waited patiently, far more so than he could ever hope to deserve.

_It must be exhausting, always having to find ways to say 'I love you' without actually saying the words. _

He must have made her so tired, these last few months.

Oliver cleared his throat. "If I ever disappoint you, Miss—" He caught himself. He had not called her Miss McInerney in his head for so very long. "Shane. If I ever disappoint you, or if you feel as though I have failed you in some manner, you _must_ tell me so that I have the opportunity to repair the error." He paused, hunting for the words he needed. "I can be stubborn. But I would infinitely prefer to lose an argument than I would be to ... to lose ..."

His voice failed him, but from the way Shane's eyes had widened it seemed as though he had sufficiently communicated at least a portion of what he had been trying to say. "Oliver, I ..." She pressed her lips together, as if holding back emotion. "You could never disappoint me."

Self-recrimination cut as deeply as it had that first afternoon. "That's kind of you, but we both know how untrue that is." He looked away. "I disappointed you a great deal when I told you that we were not going to dance at the showcase."

There was only silence. "I ..." The rest of the sentence trailed away. "Yes." Shain admitted finally, voice soft enough that he almost couldn't hear it above the rain. The pain in it, however, was clear. "But I understood."

Oliver lifted his head, meeting her eyes. "You should not have had to." His hand half lifted, wanting to reach out. But after the way he'd handled all this, he hadn't yet earned that right. "I ... avoided a question you asked me earlier. That day, that dance ..." He let out a long breath. "That was what I was afraid of."

Shane blinked, the confusion on her face making it clear that she hadn't understood him. "The showcase?"

"No." He smiled, just a little, his voice thick with all the emotion he had tried so hard to hold back. "The fact that I had found someone I wanted to dance with so *very* much."

He heard her inhalation of breath, and in the half-light from the windows he could see the shimmer of tears in her eyes. Then she smiled, so brilliant and beautiful it seemed as though a beam of sunlight had suddenly appeared in the middle of the rainstorm.

Slowly, she walked toward him, close enough that they were both under the shelter of her umbrella. She held it out, just a little, and Oliver wrapped his own hand around the handle. Then she let it go, lifting her hands to cradle his face.

Oliver's throat tightened, loving her so much he was astonished he'd been able to contain it inside him so long.

Her smile widened, as if she could see it in his eyes. "If you disappoint me again, Oliver O'Toole, I promise that I will yell at you as you will no doubt very much deserve." She blinked, her tears spilling over, and he lifted his free hand to wipe them away as she continued. "And I also promise you I will stay _right_ by your side, no matter what happens, until you see sense."

There were no words to sufficiently encompass the gift she was giving him, but there were others that belonged to her. "I love you," he whispered, pouring everything he felt into the simple sentence.

He could feel her tremble. "I love you, too."

The kiss was gentle, the feeling of butterflies inside him and the promise of spring on the horizon. Hope, made even sweeter with the joy of finding it again.

When they broke apart, she looked up at him as if checking for any lingering doubts in his eyes. He only pulled her closer, wrapping his free arm around her tightly as he pressed his lips against her hair. "I told her I wanted a divorce," he murmured.

She snuggled in closer, despite the fact that he was soaking wet. "I think I figured that part out already."

He chuckled, happier than he could ever remember being. "I thought you might have."

000

I ... er ... I kind of also have an original novel and short story. won't let me post the link, but if you look up "Jenniffer Wardell - books" on Google you'll find them both.


	2. Rita and Norman

It was only after Norman's grandmother had fallen asleep that they realized that Shane and Oliver had disappeared. "Do you think they're all right?" Rita asked anxiously, peering down the hallways on the off chance that they might be coming around a corner. They technically hadn't been in danger in the bank vault, but after they'd gone missing at the pageant she couldn't help but be a little more concerned than she might have been otherwise.

"I think so." Norman sounded thoughtful as they headed down the corridor. "As long as they're together."

Rita's smile was only a little sad. "That's true." The way Shane had looked at Oliver the last few days was suspiciously familiar. She really needed to remember to give her a hug.

Norman looked over at her, the corners of his mouth curving upward in a brief, wonderful smile. "Do you want to go get some pudding?"

Rita's eyes widened at the reminder. "Oh!" She pulled the container and spoon out of her pocket. "I forgot to tell you, but I got you some while you were talking to Joshua and Matt." She blushed, flustered by the fact that he had suddenly stopped walking. She held it out to him. "I know how much you like pudding after a big day."

He stared down at the container in her hand, a dozen different emotions flickering across his face. When he finally met her eyes, though, he just seemed resolved. "I wanted your book to be about us," he said quietly.

Rita's mouth dropped open as her brain frantically checked to see if she'd suddenly started daydreaming. "What?"

Now, she saw a faint, very familiar sadness in his eyes. "Your love story. I wanted it to be about us." Carefully, he took the pudding from her hand. He tried smiling again, but it wasn't the same. "It's okay that it wasn't, though."

"But ... but I ..." Why couldn't she get her mouth to work? In love stories, the heroine always knew _exactly_ the right thing to say in moments like this, solving the terrible misunderstanding with poetic, perfect words that would make the hero sweep her into his arms for a passionate kiss. But here, now, when it really mattered, she couldn't even get out a complete sentence.

There was one thing, though, she could do.

Rita threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his. Norman was completely frozen, and after a few seconds she stumbled backwards with a mortified expression. "I'm so sorry," she began. "I know I probably shouldn't have done that, but I said the novel wasn't about you and it really was but I didn't know how to ..."

She let the words trail off when Norman blinked. "The book _was_ about us?"

Rita nodded, not really trusting herself to say anything else.

For a moment, he didn't move. Then he nodded to himself, walked over to one of the chairs lining the hallway, and set the pudding and spoon down on the seat. Then he walked back to Rita, taking her hands in his. Rita stopped breathing.

Norman looked down at their joined hands, then looked back up at her. He cleared his throat. "Do ... you think we could do that again?"

Rita's heart gave a single, wild leap, and she threw her arms around Norman again. This time, he kissed her back.

As it turned out, love stories weren't nearly as wonderful as reality.


End file.
